


The Thunder That's Breaking In Your Heart

by 1nsomnizac



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, F/F, Pretransition Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1nsomnizac/pseuds/1nsomnizac
Summary: John Egbert, struggling with gender dysphoria and a tendency to self-isolate, falls under the spell of a beautiful vampiric monster.
Relationships: John Egbert/Porrim Maryam
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2021/2/23: Updated this now that I know how to do chatlogs. I also altered their typing styles to more closely resemble the way they type in canon.

You haven’t really talked to your friends in a month. Not that you haven’t talked to them at all, they check in, message you, see how you are, but you haven’t really talked to them. You’ve been in a mood, you guess. You never thought of yourself as a moody guy, even if you have been sort of depressed since your Dad died.

You learned what gender dysphoria was about a month ago. You had heard the term of course, and you knew trans people had it, but you never really knew what it was supposed to feel like. You learned about a month ago.

It started innocuously enough. You ran into Roxy at the shopping center and decided to have some coffee together. You talked with her about your lives, and she brought up how even now, years into her transition, she still gets called ‘sir’ over the phone sometimes, and how it feels like freefall. You knew exactly what she meant, the feeling like being on a roller coaster that keeps dropping, something deeply wrong, and you try to move on but it sticks in you for a long time afterward. And she looked at you with surprise and asked where you heard that description of gender dysphoria. And you frowned and said, that isn’t gender dysphoria, that’s just how I feel when someone calls me a ‘gentleman’. And she looked at you with an odd expression and changed the subject, but the conversation stuck with you and you did a little internet research when you got home.

It was all a little too familiar for comfort. It’s fine, it’s just--but you don’t--you aren’t--you can’t be-- you can’t think about it. You cannot form the thought. And you’ve decided to let your hair grow out a bit, but that doesn’t mean--Men wear their hair long sometimes, so it isn’t a gender thing. It’s been well over a month since you’ve been to the barber. You just feel like a change. You don’t really, but you have to do something. Maybe if it sucks then you’ll finally get this awful notion out of your head.

It’s not like it would be awful, per se, it’s just--no, it can’t be true. You would know if it were true, right? You would have known since you were a kid, right? Isn’t that what the movies say? But it wouldn’t be awful. You’ve always been comfortable around lgbt people. Rose and Dave are, and you’ve always felt comfortable hanging out with Rose’s lesbian friends back in high school. It just felt like the whole crew really clicked the way it rarely ever did with the guys in class. Not to say that you never got on with guys or anything. Dave is one of your best friends, and Karkat is a great guy, even if you had an awkward few days in high school after he asked you out. You have a lot of lgbt friends, now that you think about it. If you came out they would still be your friends. Probably. But that doesn’t matter since it can’t be true. Okay it does matter to you, you feel good knowing you would probably be safe, you know that is not the case for everyone in your--in that position.

So you jump a little when you get a pesterchum message from Rose out of the blue. You feel almost guilty, because of all of your friends, you have been avoiding a heart to heart with her the most. Rose has always been able to see right through you. Whenever your heart has been troubled, she always narrowed in on it and showed you something about yourself you did not realize. Once you get speaking to her, there is nothing you can hide from her, and there is nothing that she will let you hide from. And that has always given you comfort before, but this time, something is different. It isn’t that you want to hide this trouble from her, it is just that you have this doubt. What if it’s true? What if that niggling feeling that has been with you every day for the past month is onto something? What if you really are… 

What if you aren’t? You suppose that you would feel silly, fretting and worrying about it. Maybe a little ashamed. Is being trans really such a bad thing? No, of course not. It’s just you being… you can’t think it, even obliquely. But beyond feeling silly, you would feel a little… disappointed? That is not quite it but it is the closest thing you can think of. If you aren’t you-know-what, then what *is* wrong with you? Why do you feel this way?

You look at the message from Rose. There are two now.

TT: It has come to my attention that you are being less social than you promised you would be the last time I dragged you out of a depression slump.  
TT: I know your sleeping schedule gets bad when you get like this, but you are usually awake by ten, so please respond. 

You can’t help but smile. She is so good to you.

EB: i’m here. sorry i haven’t been myself lately. i’ve been in a mood, i guess. 

Her reply is fast.

TT: Good morning, John. Are you telling me you’ve been ‘in a mood’ for the past month, or just more recently?  
EB: the whole month, i guess. i’m not really sure what’s wrong. 

You regret the lie as soon as you hit ‘enter’. She always knows when you’re lying.

TT: I spoke to Roxy earlier.  
TT: She hasn’t seen or heard from you since you spoke about a month ago, and she was worried she might have upset you.

Oh, shit. She knows! Shit, uh, think fast!

EB: haha, no, i’m not upset at roxy.  
EB: we had a nice talk.  
EB: i should pester her and let her know i’m not trying to drop her, huh?  
EB: now that you mention it, she told me some really personal stuff.  
EB: so she might feel a bit rejected?  
EB: i should message her right away! 

Haha, Egbert, you’ve done it, you now have a way out of this conversation before Rose forces you to become self aware. Good thinking!

TT: I daresay you should.  
TT: But before you do that, there is something I want to talk with you about.

Uh oh!

EB: uh  
EB: what is it?  
TT: You know that we all care about you, don’t you, John?  
TT: When you are going through something, you do not have to do it alone.  
TT: We have never looked down on you for needing help.  
EB: i know.  
EB: it’s just  
EB: i’m feeling something and i can’t put it into words.  
EB: and i’m scared of what will happen if i don’t get it right.  
TT: What are you afraid will happen?

You pause. What *are* you afraid of?

EB: if i’m wrong  
EB: if i don’t get it right  
EB: i will live as something i’m not  
EB: or i’ll live as what i am, but i will always doubt myself. 

You look at what you have written. You wonder whether you have shown your hand already. You wonder whether she somehow knew before she even messaged you. You wonder whether she knows you better than you know yourself.

The pause on her end seems to take forever, but only about a minute passes.

TT: You aren’t ready to talk about what you are going through. That is okay.  
TT: I will not push you to talk about this, but I still want to help you through this.  
EB: thank you, rose. that means a lot to me.  
TT: I have a suggestion I want to propose, and I want you to think about it for a minute before you answer.  
EB: uh, okay.  
EB: shoot.  
TT: You want to know whether you’re right or wrong about something you feel about who you are.  
TT: Unless I misinterpreted the last few lines up there?  
EB: yes  
EB: i mean  
EB: you didn’t misinterpret those lines.  
EB: that is how i’m feeling.  
TT: I thought so. I believe that it might help you to experiment with changing some things about yourself. Going at your own pace, of course.  
TT: There’s a nightclub up in Paxala. I’m going there tonight.  
TT: I want you to come too. No one will know you there.  
TT: Experiment a little. Be someone else. Be someone more like the person you think you might be.  
TT: And if you’re wrong, you just stop going. No loss on your part.  
TT: What do you say? 

You look down at the words. You want to shy away, but you force yourself to consider it. You imagine yourself in a strange club, no one you know around, just dancing and getting out of your head, maybe dressing a little different, a little more like… but not too much, since even if no one else knows you, Rose will, and you aren’t ready to open up about it even if she seems like she might already know what your problem is, and wouldn’t hate you for it. But, yeah. It could be fun. Dressing up and going out, a little consequence-free fun. And maybe it *will* help you clear your head.

EB: what sort of club were you thinking?  
TT: I’ll link you their site, and you can see for yourself.

She sends you the site.

EB: A goth club? I’ve never been to one of those.  
TT: Then it should be perfect for our little experiment, shouldn’t it?  
EB: haha, yeah, i guess so. is there a dress code?  
TT: Wear black.  
EB: i think i can manage that.  
TT: Good. I’ll meet you at your place at around, I don’t know, eight?  
EB: sounds good to me!  
TT: I’ll see you then.


	2. Chapter 2

After a little while in your closet you realize that Rose’s directive to “wear black” is going to be a little more hassle than you predicted. It isn’t that you do not have anything black, it’s just… not a lot. You have some old black jeans that still fit you, but they have been through the wash so many times that they are almost totally grey. You also have some black dress pants that cut into your tummy a little bit too much. You find a black tee, but with some shock, you realize it’s the one that Vriska bought you back in freshman year when she decided you needed to dress like less of a dork. You forgot you still had it. There’s no way it fits you anymore, and the faded ghost symbol on the front means it would not send the right message anyway. This is you being someone else. This is you trying something new on.

It’s time to shop for clothes.

You never got particularly excited about clothes shopping. Clothes were just a thing you wore to cover yourself up and make you presentable for different situations. Until Vriska got her hands on you, you usually just wore comfortable T-shirts and shorts with plenty of pockets. After Vriska started working on you, you wore more jeans and slacks, understated outfits that were more mature, but you never really updated your sense of fashion that much. It’s almost 2020 and you dress like it’s 2010, at least until someone points out that some article of clothing is on it’s way out. You still have trouble telling the difference between skinny jeans and jeans that are just slim fit, and occasionally you will discover you are wearing one or the other.

You pile into the old car and drive to the mall. It’s around noon on a Friday, so the post-work and post-school rush hasn’t arrived yet, and the mall is populated by only a relative few. There are a couple of clothing stores you pass on the way to the Old Navy, but none of them seem like they would have the sort of clothing you are thinking of. Sorry Tommy Bahama, but you don’t want to look like you walked into a goth club from Margaritaville. You barely even notice the Claire’s, since no matter what your gender issues you aren’t a preteen girl. But as the Old Navy comes into view a garish sign grabs your attention, and you stop.

You can’t recall the last time you were in a Hot Topic, but it was probably back in high school. It always seems to come back to high school today, for some irritating reason. You’re clean shaven and your face is still youthful, but no one would mistake you for the store’s targeted teenage demographic. At least you’re pretty sure. That one guy at your last job asked you if you were an eighteen-year-old… Either way, it would be a bit embarrassing, wouldn’t it?

You look around. What few people are around are indifferent, and most are not even looking in your direction. You inhale and take the plunge. The first plunge of many, a part of you says.

The first thing you think is that Hot Topic looks different than you remember. Sure there is a lot of black band T-shirts lining one of the walls, and more mall goth couture seems to exist in there, but the front of the store is dominated by bright fandom merch. Rick and Morty, Marvel, Star Wars… it is not like there was nothing like that back when you were in high school, but it certainly felt a lot less mainstream at the time.

You wander through the displays, trying to avoid spending too much time around things that seem just a little too teenage for a person your age to be hanging around. You notice a display of Supernatural merchandise and your mind boggles. Is that show still popular with teenagers? That show was around and well established back when you were in high school. It can’t still be a thing, can it? Maybe it’s a different show called supernatural, an anime maybe… no, there’s that one guy’s face. You remember that one guy. That girl who wore trench coats had a picture of him on her laptop. You guess some things take time to change.

There’s a selection of chokers. You always thought those looked good when Rose wore them in high school, and you almost extend a hand, but immediately you notice how thin they are, and the thought passes through your head that chokers made for teenage girls would not work well around the neck of a… man. You feel that sickening falling feeling again, that wrongness, and you force your head away and make toward the band shirts. You feel like you are about to cry, physically, but your heart doesn’t feel like crying. You feel almost numb. You don’t understand why these stupid chokers are having this effect on you.

You breathe in slowly, hold, and then release. You imagine yourself turning into the wind, blowing away from danger, reforming somewhere else, safe and sound. You have had this fantasy before, a calming exercise you picked up around the time of your thirteenth birthday. You sigh and then return to your surroundings. There are a lot of band logos, and a lot of shirts. You flip through them, trying to find one for a band you actually listen to, but most of them are familiar from only a few songs. You do find one for the band Tensei, which you were super into all through high school. You can practically hear Heir of Grief as you look at it. You get one in their largest size, assuming the sizes are teenager-scaled.

As you look for others, though, you can’t help but feel like you don’t really want to wear a band tee to a club. You look around for something a little more slick, suddenly finding an unusual urge to dress up. You see a pair of truly eye-catching Korn pants, the kind that trail on the ground and are covered in studs and whatnot, black as night, but you decide that it is a bit too much, and besides, you do not want to wear something that you might trip on if you decide to dance. You see a shirt, a black button up, sort of silky, but definitely not silk, and you can see yourself wearing it, out on the town, over a plain black tee with black pants, and maybe some accessories. Nothing too out there, but something about halfway between what you know and what you don’t. You get their largest size, and pick up a studded belt, a studded black bracelet, and, before you can second guess yourself, you bring it to the checkout counter. Your purchases are a little pricey compared to what you normally buy, but you step out of the shop cracking a smile.

While you are here, you decide to go to the Old Navy, and you try on a few different pairs of black pants and some black jeans. Two of your choices seem to work for you, giving you enough flexibility to dance in them, so you take them to the checkout with a plain black T-shirt. While in line, you notice that the line passes through their makeup selection. You try to picture yourself in goth makeup and smile. It seems a little silly for a first excursion. You don't really think that that is your thing, anyway.

You adjust the pants in your arms, and as you do your eye falls on a display of eyeliner and mascara. All of a sudden, you’re struck by the idea of wearing it. You remember the bit part you played in one of Dave’s ‘student films,’ and the girl he put in charge of costume and makeup putting eyeliner on you and saying, “your eyes are really blue, a bit of eyeliner will really make them pop.” You were so nervous you did not respond, there was a strange girl with a pencil getting very close to your eyes, but something must have sat in your brain from that day, because you think, yes, I bet it would make my eyes pop. You have never particularly cared whether your eyes popped before, but suddenly, you feel like you can look like anything, anything you want, and after all, we’re just trying things out. You want to try this out.

You pick up one of the pencils, and you have to force yourself to hold onto it when you see the person behind you in line notice your motion. Awkwardness seems to build every second, and you have to visualize becoming the breeze again to stop yourself from sweating. When the cashier rings you up, you boggle slightly at the price of the makeup, which despite looking like a normal black colored pencil cost you ten whole dollars. Makeup, you suspect, is a total racket. You tell yourself that next time you’ll look around for prices online, and you don’t even notice the fact that you already expect that you will buy makeup again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in 2019, before the pandemic of 2020, and yes there was still Supernatural merch in Hot Topic at that time.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s six in the evening, and you’re shaving your face for the second time since you woke up. Your Dad taught you how to use a straight razor when you were twelve, and even though he passed before you had grown any real facial hair to speak of, you use what he taught you every day. Multiple times a day, sometimes, in fact. Your hair grows in dark, and after eight hours, the stubble always breaks through the skin, extremely visible, and you can feel it whenever you touch your face. You dislike the sensation of it, the stubble. It reminds you of sandpaper. It reminds you of mold spores.

The shaving does at least give you a reason to wash your face at least twice a day. When you get depressed showering feels like a monumental task, but your face at least stays clean, because even when nothing matters the feeling of facial hair is usually unpleasant enough to drag you out of bed.

After finishing, you wipe down your face with a washcloth and run a finger over the nearly smooth surface of your jaw. You always run the back of your finger across, rather than your fingertips, because you can always feel the minute imperfections in your shave with your fingertips, and you cannot keep spending hours shaving every hair to the skin. But if the skin feels smooth on the backs, then it is good enough.

After drying off, your eyes land on the eyeliner pencil. You watched YouTube makeup tutorials all afternoon, and after internalizing the tips that got repeated in most of the videos, you think you have the basic idea down. You uncap the pencil and, leaning into the mirror, slowly bring it to your face.

You take it slow, but even with caution, your muscles are not used to fine motions at this angle, and your outline is jagged and not fully along the edge of the eyelid. You go over the lines again, a little better this time, but now the lines are extremely thick, and you look faintly ridiculous, like you are trying to replicate the look of Gaara from Naruto. You wet a washcloth and try to scrub it off. This results in a thin grey film coating the area around the eye, and if you looked a little ridiculous before, now you look just plain clownish. You grit your teeth and try again, rubbing until each eye is free, save for a little residue on the border of the eyelids, which you cover with a deliberate line of eyeliner. This time, by trial or by miracle, it looks… decent. Not great, but okay.

That girl was right, though. Your eyes do pop, a bright blue inside a new black outline. As you look at yourself, you think it might be a little… incomplete. With something dark up top, maybe your lips should be darker? Would that look good on you? You cannot be sure, and anyway, you do not have any lipstick. Maybe next time.

You check the time. It is almost seven o’clock; Rose should be here in around an hour. You hurry downstairs to make something to eat. You heat up some leftovers and put on an old playlist with a lot of your old high school music while you eat, then scurry upstairs to change into your new outfit. Your new belt is too thick to fit in the loops of one of the pairs of pants you bought, so you wear the other one, and wear the Hot Topic shirt over the plain black tee. The Hot topic shirt is a little baggy on you, now that you see it in the mirror, and you look at yourself with the shirt off and then on again to compare. Struck with a moment of inspiration, you roll the bottom of the shirt up and tie it below your chest. That looks…hm. You thought it might make it look one of those feminine tops, but it doesn’t really work. It just looks sort of stupid. You sigh and take the shirt off. You’ll have to get a different shirt if you want to pull off the look you are going for. In just the tee and the pants, you look a little more punkish than gothic, but it will probably do. You put the bracelet you got on, but that only increases the punk to goth ratio of the outfit. You are just about to take it off when you hear the doorbell ring.

You smile and hurry down the stairs. You are a little nervous and a little excited, and very glad to see a friend again. You can’t imagine what it would do to you to be away for any longer than you have. You open the door wide.

Rose Lalonde is at your doorstep. Her dress is a full length black with short sleeves and a high cut over a deep purple stretching to mid thigh, with long purple sleeves. Her lipstick is a similarly dark shade of purple, as is her eyeshadow. She looks up, and her phone vanishes into some unobvious pocket. She smiles and raises her eyebrows at you.

“John,” she says, “it’s good to see you.” you share a friendly embrace, angling your faces from each other so as not to endanger the makeup. When you draw back, she smiles again.

“Is that a new outfit, John?”

“Uh, yeah. How can you tell?”

She pulls a clear sticker off of your inseam. “You missed a tag.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for catching that.” You usher her through the door. “You look pretty amazing. Is that one of the ones you made?”

“I would say it’s one that I’ve altered, but yes, I put some effort into it.”

“It shows. Am I underdressed? I know you said wear black, but I feel like i’m dressed for an MCR concert and you’re dressed for, I don’t know, dark necromantic rituals.”

“But of course, John. The high priestess must wear her ceremonial robes, but the sacrifice need only wear the appropriate color.”

You snort, and she grins, and you both flop down on the couch. You sit for a minute in comfortable silence, the silence of two people who have already said much between them simply enjoying each other’s company. You feel at ease around Rose in a way that few other people come close. Eventually, of course, the concerns of the day come out.

“Have you been using eyeliner long?”

“Uh, no. I just got it today, actually.”

“Really? It looks a lot better than a lot of people’s first attempts.”

“Well, uh, it’s sort of the second.”

Rose nods and says, “regardless. Well done.”

Something about her telling you that feels delightfully good, and you can feel yourself beaming at that. “Thanks.”

Rose looks at you steadily for a moment. It always feels a little like she is looking into your soul when she does that, and your smile wavers because today there is something in your soul you aren’t ready to show her. But the moment passes without comment, and she says, “it’s about twenty minutes to the venue this time of night, and I’d like to get there by nine. Do you want to predrink? I will have to abstain.”

You hesitate; alcohol has been an issue for Rose off and on since she was a teenager, but she is usually dealing well enough to handle drinking socially. The fact she’s not drinking could mean a number of things, but she won’t tell you which one without prodding. You feel a little pang of guilt. You have avoided a feelings jam with Rose for over a month, but it didn’t occur to you in your gender panic that she might not tell you when she needs you. Friendship does not move in one direction, after all.

“Are you saving your drink until later, then?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. A woman I met online is supposed to be there, and I want to drink with her should I find her. You won’t mind if I wander from you, will you?”

You blink. You were not expecting it, but you can deal. Maybe that will even be better for losing yourself, or finding yourself, or whatever it is this experiment was supposed to accomplish. “No, I don’t mind. I think I’ll wait till we get there though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not doing quadrants in this fic, but the way that I depict John and Rose here is sort of similar to how I picture moirallegience.


End file.
